Bonjour Madame

I see hundreds of people everyday walking around Old Town Antibes.  I leave my apartment in the morning and except for one or two quick stops back in, I’m out all day.  And it’s hot.  I notice my natural ingredients Tom’s deodorant (which I’ve been using since Tony Robbins told us in the seminar that the aluminum present in most others is associated with Alzheimer’s) does not seem to be working very well.  I carry a water bottle with me, just like I usually do in the states when it’s hot.  Actually, there I keep one in my car all the time. 

It’s super easy here because the tap water is wonderful!  I don’t know where it’s coming from, maybe straight from Evian, but it’s better than any bottled water I’ve had.  So I have a couple empty bottles and I fill one with tap water in the morning and carry one with me during the hot day.  Now… I’ve noticed that NO ONE else has a water bottle.  NOT A SINGLE PERSON!  Pour quoi?  When I eat in a little café sometimes I don’t ask for de l’eau (some water) because even though it’s free, it’s a big production.  It comes in a big colored glass bottle along with a glass with ice.  Always the same thing.  So rather than bother the garcon (waiter) for a carafe of water which leads to a big discussion of glass bottle, with or without gas, I just pull out my plastic bottle, knowing they appreciate my being less of a bother.  I have plenty of things to bother them with… more sucre (sugar), can I have some salt, please, je voudrais de beurre (I would like some butter).  And God knows what else I can think of needing while I’m eating my little meal.

One day, I even smiled and laughed, showing the waiter how I find the need to pour extra water- from my bottle- into my café American, because even the American-style café is too strong for my taste buds.  I noticed that day in particular he had a very strained look on his face.  Who knows? 

I was sitting in Le Crème Brulee, one of my new favorite free Wi-Fi hangouts, eating my sucre avec beurre (sugar with butter) crepe and sipping my coffee syrup or whatever they call that coffee when I noticed the owner saying something to my waiter while two other female servers listened with a look of disgust.  And they seemed to be glancing my way.  I was dressed nicely, and the place wasn’t busy.  I thought that in France there was an unwritten rule that you could sit at your table as long as you liked, it wasn’t even polite for the garcon to bring your bill until you requested it.  There were empty tables all around me.  Were they just tired of my being there?  They certainly weren’t acting very French-like if they were going to hurry me along.  And they’re the ones with the free Wi-Fi, so of course they should expect some people to lounge a little longer than normal. 

 I saw the garcon- very handsome and proper I might add- walking towards me.  What was he going to say???  What instruction had the restaurant owner just given him… because I could tell by his walk and his head slightly lowered that he didn’t want to be the one to deliver the message.  And his crew was watching him sideways, trying to act like they weren’t. 

“Excuse me, Madame”, he said softly… “Would you please remove your water bottle from the table?”  And I glimpsed the other two female servers quietly snickering. 

What???  What in the world was the problem with my water bottle???   “Oh, certainly” I said, and couldn’t get it in my purse fast enough.  “Je suis desolate”  I am sorry.  Sorry for fucking what!!!  When did it become so RUDE to have a water bottle on a table in a casual café? 

After that, I finished what I was doing on the internet, left an extra large tip and left.  I felt so flustered and stunned. 

Later that evening I was sitting in the tiny “The Happy Face”, the only place besides the Lebanese restaurant that has internet Wi-Fi available in the evening.  By the way, I have now mentioned in my blog the four places in all of Old Antibes that has Wi-Fi.  If you plan on coming here, make a note because they have been extremely difficult to find.  I bought a drink so I could ask for their confirmation key number to log on.  As I was sitting with my computer on the bar, feeling very uneasy and nervous about making another etiquette custom mistake, I asked the girl near me if it was considered rude to be using your computer at a bar or café.  “Oh, Non!”  C’est d’accord!”  Oh, no, it’s ok!, she said happily.  And how about at a café, while eating a crepe?  I thought I would make her answer a second time to make sure we understood each other.  No, no, no.  Absolutely no problem.   Hmmm… ok….. so….. how about having a water bottle on your table?  Is that ok?  She looked as if someone had struck her!   No, no!  She shook her head and wagged her finger with a horrified look in her eyes.  “Non, non” she said.  Wonder why. “It’s impolite?” I asked.  “No bottle water.  Non, non.” she said concerned, as if she was hoping for my sake I hadn’t committed that terrible faux pas. 

So, there you have it.  Now I keep my water bottle hidden in my purse and turn when I drink it, as if I’m blowing my nose or something.  I don’t know what it is about the bottle of water, but I won’t make that mistake again! 

And, as a footnote, when I was in the cell phone store buying my phone with my bottle deep in my purse, two French women were chattering away.  One laughed and I heard her say to her friend, “Look, I’m thirsty all the time just like an American” and she took her water bottle from her purse and took a drink.  I don’t get it.  What’s it all about? 

I have good news about Le Crème Brulee.  Like falling off a horse, the best thing to do is get right back on… the next morning, guess where I chose to have my crepe?  Yep!  Le Crème Brulee!  And I followed all the rules. Well, most of the rules.  I asked the girl (a new one that hadn’t waited on me yet) for a crepe avec sucre and du beurre.  Imagine that.  And she was real confused about the du beurre.  Apparently I was saying it like du ‘bear’ and it’s supposed to be du ‘ber’.  But we finally got that settled… or so I thought.  When the crepe came it seemed a little dry.  I took a bite and tasted no du beurre.  No du beurre to be found.  She finally came back into view and I motioned her over and tried my best to explain in francais that my crepe didn’t have the du BER that I SPECIFICALLY asked for.  Actually, I was very polite.  She left and returned with two cold pats of butter wrapped in gold foil and tossed them on my plate and quickly turned and left.  Oh no, that will never do.  I actually thought about spreading the cold butter on my crepe but at $7.00 US a pop, I pretty much want the crepe to be parfait (translated as perfect)!  When she walked back into sight I motioned her over.  Lots of commotion- my trying to tell her I wanted warm melted butter and her looking very confused.  She called over one of the other servers (one of the smirkers) and they chattered a flury!  Then she started to remove my plate.  I had only taken one bite, and I didn’t need for the kitchen to make an entirely new crepe.  I’m not a jerk, I just wanted melted butter on my crepe!  The smirker girl came over and said something to me in French which I didn’t understand, but it obviously confirmed what the first girl had said because the second girl whisked my plate away!  Go figure.  So I busied myself on my computer thinking I had awhile before the new crepe arrived and then voila!  My original crepe with the bite taken out returned with a cute little bowl of melted butter beside it.  “Perfect!” I said with a big smile.  And they smiled too.  I guess The Crème Brulee has a stern rule about bringing melted butter out by itself.  Who knows? 

My crepe was delicious and I left another sizeable tip in hopes that they won’t only not cringe when they see me walking their way, but that they’ll actually hope I come in.  Before I left, in the 90 minutes that I sat there using the internet after finishing my crepe, the smirker girl came towards me and said something about me, and my using the internet and motioned outside.  I said, “Not a problem, I’m ready to leave”, thinking she was telling me my time was up.  She profusely made it clear that that was not what she was trying to convey, but that a woman seated in outside seating needed help connecting, and that perhaps I (since I’ve apparently spent more time in their restaurant on-line than all other people combined) might be able to help her.  So I got up and went over to the lady’s table and helped her get on-line. 

Now when I walk by The Crème Brulee they smile and say bonjour.  And I smile and happily say “Bonjour” in the french sweet sing-song voice!  After all, they’re my internet connection.  And their crepes are really good!

And another happy note… look how beautiful the Mediterranean is today.  I walked around the corner of my narrow street and the view opened to the sea and the cobalt and turquoise jewel tones of the sea set against the bright blue sky took my breath away.  I hope even a tiny bit of the warm, vibrant energy comes through in the picture.  In person, it makes me breathe faster and I feel a soothing wave move through my body.

Today I put on my short khaki skirt that I wore all summer long in Ocean City.  I packed for fall weather and it’s been hot and sunny here.  Way too hot for my jeans and all the long sleeve shirts I brought.  So my summer wardrobe is a bit limited.  I added a nice little tank top to the khaki skirt, thought I looked cute and went out to enjoy another beautiful day in this charming town. 

I stopped in the boulangerie (bakery) near my place and got a raisin biscuit for breakfast.  Take a look at this adorable place!   And it had the warm smell of freshly-baked bread.  The biscuit was wonderful!  I vowed to come back for a baguette the next day. 

Then as I was walking around, suddenly I realized how frumpy I looked compared to everyone else!  I saw hundreds of people throughout the day and NOT ONE other person was wearing a short khaki skirt.  Everyone else looked either flowing, in long, airy skirts that fluttered in the breeze when they walked, or spunky, like the girl in the short shorts whose cheeks of her round, firm butt showed when she took a step.  She had beautiful, thin legs up to my neck, those crazy short shorts and pointed shoes with no back and a tiny heel.  Quite the package.  I couldn’t stop staring at her, but that’s another thing I’ve found odd here.  I’ve seen some spectacular women here- just absolutely stunning in their beauty and dress.  And back in the states the women would’ve turned heads.  Lots of people would’ve stared at them.  They’re remarkable- they’re stand-outs!  But here, no one seems to be impressed.  These fabulous women walk by and I’m the only person who appears to be wide-eyed!  What’s that all about?  How could they not be noticed?  No comments, no cat-calls, no mumbling when they walk by…. Just everyday normal and no ripple of reaction in the crowd.  Anyway, I decided to ditch the khaki skirt, even if it only leaves me with three other bottoms to wear during this hot weather. 

And… still can’t wait to see the clothing market.  It’s supposed to be really good.  I wouldn’t know because it turns out they only have it on Thursday mornings.  I looked all over yesterday for it, in the streets where it was supposed to be set up, but saw only a few areas of antiques and flea market stands.  I was out last Thursday looking for it, but was apparently too late and by the late afternoon all the stands had folded up and left.   Now my anticipation is really building. 

I’ve wanted to see Juan Les Pins, which is only about a mile and a half or so from here.  It’s supposed to be a vibrant, energetic little town with nice beaches on the other side of the peninsula.  Normally I would walk, but sometimes those “about a mile” things turn out to feel like a day-long hike.  Remember, the “4 or 5 blocks” to get from the train station to my apartment?  And besides that, I’ve been having these weird chest pains since I’ve gotten to France.  I’ve had them before over the last couple years, and had them checked out and nothing serious was found.  But I also recently got a blood test showing that my triglycerides were off the chart coupled with a not so good cholesterol level.  So now chest pains seem to alert me more than before. 

With all of this going on, and wanting to see Juan Les Pins, I reduced myself to taking “The Petite Train”  tour train through the streets of Antibes, through the port and over to Juan Les Pins.  Roundtrip with the availability to get off for as long as you like (it makes the trip every hour) for 7 Euros ($10.50).  How embarrassing.  I- wanting to appear so French- riding in the little car of The Petite Train in my frumpy khaki skirt.    

Juan Les Pins IS fun!  I was there around 6 pm and it was hopping!  Lively restaurants and busy shops crowded into maybe a 3 or 4 square block area.  And their beach was lined with many waterfront casual restaurants with tables in the sand.  It felt like a fun mix of Mexico’s playful Playa del Carmen and Florida’s cosmopolitan South Beach. Jlp beach restaurant What an area!  They actually rake their sand so that it appears groomed.  All the restaurants had this look- almost like the lined sand was their floor but running right out to the water.   And there were sofas and chairs on parts of the beach! 

I stopped by a busy little shop selling Grand Marnier crepes and ordered a sucre avec buerre best crepe .  They handed it to me folded in its own little pie-shaped container with special little tongs for eating!  YUM!  I think this was the best crepe I have ever had!  It had a touch of the Grand Marnier in it to just give it a hint of an added flavor.  And each side was grilled to perfection!  Absolutely delicious!

The promenade along the water had outside candy stands maybe ten feet long selling all different kinds of candy.  There were two of those within one block.  It looked so cute and fun I wanted to buy something but didn’t want to ruin my dinner, especially after downing the crepe.    I chose one piece of candy, a nougat with nuts, sort of like the Mary Sue pecan Easter egg we have in the states.  I asked for a bag since I wasn’t going to be eating it in one pop.  This caused a little disgust and a tone of voice that even though I couldn’t understand the words, I knew meant she didn’t want to waste a bag on one piece of candy.  Come on… it’s only one little pink and white striped paper bag.  Get a life.  Although the bag really was cute.  The shop owners appear nice until you ask them to step out of their normal routine.  But I got my bag and put the rest of my nougat in there.  After a few steps however, I realized how good the candy was!  I nibbled some more and before long the whole nougat was gone.  I crumpled up my little, pink striped bag that had had a useful life span of less than 5 minutes and tossed it in the trash.  And then got back on The Petite Train to head home. 

Back to my little flat within the walls of the fort.  I like it so much.  Often when I get home for the evening, I walk to the water to take a look at the sea before going in for the night.  Here is a special little video I made starting at my door, going by my window with the old shutters and heavy locks, around the corner to a view of the sea. This was shot at 8:30 pm- it’s still fairly light here at that time.

 Finally!  My petite dejeneau (breakfast at 2pm) of a crepe avec sucre and le beurre (with sugar and butter)!

I awoke at 11:20 this morning- I just can’t seem to get on this time schedule and I am awake for hours during the night.  But I use that time to do the reading and writing that I want to do so the time passes quickly.  I left my apartment to find another perfect day!  Warm, sunny and bright blue skies.  The skies here are the bluest I have ever seen.  It has to have something to do with that sunlight that the famous French artists recognized.  I walked from my little street around the corner to another little street, all lined with tiny, beautiful homes of so much old character, to one of the main streets of the town, and into the Provencial Market.  It was buzzing with a flurry of activity!  Stalls filled with all sorts of interesting food and ingredients!  The first stall had at least 20 different types of olives and olive spreads.  They offered me some olive spread on a cracker, but I just couldn’t stomach it when my taste buds were waiting for some sort of a pastry.  And then fruits, vegetables, a table of 30 different olive oils.  A stall of homemade soaps and then one with perfumes.  Everything so French!  And then five stall tables together making 20 feet of all spices!  Bowls and bowls of spices, sold by the gram.  You could just scoop into a bag as much as you needed.  It made me want to cook, but I’m still in the eating out mood.  There are just too many cute places to try.  I ended up buying some cherries, which it turned out came from a box marked “Canadian cherries”.   But they looked better than any cherries I’ve ever seen in the states.  All big, fat and the perfect red color.  As well as they should have been.   A little bag of the cherries turned out to cost over $6.00! 

I left the market in search of my first French crepe of the trip.  The best thing about France- their cafes!  And Antibes has to be the best of the best.  This place is filled with possibly a hundred adorable, thick stone-walled, little cafes sprinkled amongst sweet little gift shops.  Streets and streets of these places, and around every corner.  I can’t help but smiling as I walk the streets and feeling so French! 

This morning, well, actually around 2pm, I found the best of everything!  A crepe place right next door to the Lebanese restaurant that has the free Wi-Fi, which meant that I could check my email and send text messages through Skype while I ate my crepe and drank my café Americana!   By the way, what in the world IS that café Americana?  I carry along a water bottle and fill the little coffee cup to the brim with water to make it drinkable.  It’s way too strong!   I also add as many cubes of sugar that they give me- usually eight- to help get the bite out of it.  But the crepe… yum!!!  The only thing it needed was a little salt.  Which really surprised the garcon (waiter).  He saw me get up and get a salt shaker and before I used it he quickly said something in french which must have meant, “stop, stop- you’re getting ready to put salt on your crepe, you foolish American!”  But he doesn’t realize that in the US we have salted butter which tastes much better than unsalted butter.  And so with a little salt, my crepe was perfect! 

I walked out of Old Town today and into regular Antibes to find a gym.  What a difference!  The roads were wider, the cars whizzed all around and even the people moved faster.  And things had a modern look.  I actually found 2 gyms- I’ll join one tomorrow.  It felt good to scurry back home into the fort behind the thick stone walls.  Very comforting.  And very secure back in my little studio in this old, old building with the old wooden shutters that I lock at night with the heavy, old metal rod and lever.  

I had dinner in one of the most adorable restaurants I’ve ever been in!  An inconvenience of traveling alone though is that you usually get one of the undesirable seats in the restaurant.  This has happened to me twice already!  The shop owners obviously don’t want to let me sit at one of the outside tables, since they have seats for 2-4.  So they shuffle me inside where it’s hot and not as exciting because everyone else is outside!  They ask very nicely if the seat they’re directing me to is ok, but they know it’s not.  And even though it’s not my first choice, I smile and assure them it’s absolutely fine.  You don’t want to anger the people that are going to prepare your food. 

I was in the mood for greens- I guess because I’ve been planning on getting some greens from the grocery store and sautéing them in olive oil and garlic.  Which has not happened yet.  I ordered a dish of pasta, chicken and gorgonzola and asked if I could get a green vegetable along with that.  Lots of confusion.  I don’t know the French word for vegetable and kept saying “green”.  “Vert”  and motioning something crazy with my hands.  The server finally asked me in a irritated tone of very broken English if I wanted the pasta, chicken and gorgonzola or not.  What the???  I hadn’t been rude to her, there was no reason for her to be snappy with me.  If anyone had the right to be snappy, it was moi!   Shoved back into that hot corner.  But I smiled and told her “oui, oui”  Yes, yes to the pasta while shaking my head in exagerated movements up and down.  Somehow I eventually got my question across and she said, “OK, vegetable”.  And I said “green”.  And then… I don’t know why I had the nerve to take it further, but it was important… “Combien the coute?”  What is the cost?  Oooh… not what she wanted to hear.  She gave me the most impatient, disgusted look and walked away.  I think she even rolled her eyes as she mumbled something in French that ended with “4 or 5 dollars”.  Whew!  All of that because I was in the mood for a green vegetable.  You can see from the photo that it was quite a plate.  Not what I would call a side order for sure.  Hot cucumbers with garlic… yeah, that’s about what they tasted like too… some sort of Italian beans that were already in my pasta dish, some other brown concoction that was actually pretty good even though it was cooked to a mushy consistency, carrots and rice.  I know… rice isn’t a vegetable, and I already had a huge dish of pasta.  But I smiled heartily when she brought it and looked pleased.  I just want to be a friendly American.  And the coute (cost) of the legumes as it appeared on my bill was four Euros, or $5.60.  So my 12 euro entrée which is very reasonable here along with the four euro legumes and 2.30 euro wine came to a whopping 18.30 euro or $25.62.  I noticed I didn’t get bread the way other diners did which I didn’t notice till after dinner or I surely would have asked for it.  It looked absolutely scrumptious…. hard outside with light, airy center.  And I didn’t get a wrapped mint either, which I had forgotten about until I was out of the restaurant.  I remember seeing the table of four behind me had gotten four mints with their check.  Now I can’t get the taste of one of those little butter mints out of my head!

Tomorrow is market day.  All over the town!  The clothing market is supposed to be fantastic and there’s a food market of course and an antique/flea market.  I want to make sure I get out of the house before noon tomorrow- preferably around 9!  Don’t want to miss these!